


Reid's Perspective - Goal Achieved

by Ronique



Category: Ripper Street
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Dominant Homer Jackson, Dominant Jackson, Dominant Personality, Dominate Personality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Psychological, Remix, Sexual Inexperience, Slow Burn, Submissive Edmund Reid, Teasing, jackmund, physical comfort, submissive Reid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 08:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12790782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ronique/pseuds/Ronique
Summary: A rehash of "Goal Achieved," as told from the perspective of Edmund Reid. The inspector receives an education from his favorite doctor. Emily Reid has passed. Edmund lives alone. A few details have been changed. Some background information has been added.Original's summary:"Homer Jackson is no stranger to carnal pleasure, and he hopes to pass some of his experience to dear Edmund Reid.. with a measure of sweet control."





	Reid's Perspective - Goal Achieved

**Author's Note:**

> Special thank you to Otava for all your proofing assistance and notes. Also thank you to everyone who leaves comments and kudos! If you find a formatting error or would like to offer constructive criticism, please let me know. 
> 
> As its predecessor, this fic treats Emily a bit coldly. So, if you're a fan, you've been made aware. The next fic I'll be posting takes place directly after this one.

Reid sat on the edge of his bed, gripping his bowler as it dangled between his thighs, and watched Homer Jackson cross the room toward him. He hardly believed he had agreed to this meeting, having done so out of curiosity. His genuine, undeniable natural love of learning that pressed him into exploration had festered, unfulfilled and agitated, after that day at the molly house had left seeds of inquisitiveness sprouting in his mind. He wondered about the mechanics of the operation. Not how they kept their books or paid their workers, but the actual, physical operation. How was it that two men lay together? How could two men find pleasure together? There were only so many things a man and a woman could do together. Surely, considering two men possessed the same genitalia, there was even less opportunity in their union?

He was not sure how Jackson would react to his curiosity, but Reid had approached him as a man of science and posed his questions as sensible as he could think to do, though ensuring they were alone in the Dead Room first. Reid might have thought it an odd place for such discourse, had that not been the location most often used for scientific discussion. It seemed only natural.

Jackson had paused in his duties, leaving the stabbing victim before him momentarily unattended, and gave Reid an odd, sly grin. It made the inspector uncomfortable. He was not used to such expressions directed toward him. Then Jackson had chuckled.

“You’re curious,” Jackson had whispered.

Reid had nodded. “Of course,” he said, leaning toward Jackson over the table. “Are you not? Nobody wants to talk about it, but the men put down upon such activities as if they know exactly what goes on in those houses. It’s an act for which one can be arrested, yet we know nothing about it.”

Jackson cleared his throat. “You know nothing about it,” he murmured.

Reid was taken aback. “You mean to say you do?”

“Shhh,” Jackson hushed him and glanced at the door. “This really isn’t the place to discuss that sort of thing.”

“Of course, forgive me.” Reid toyed with the rim of his bowler, trying to decide how best to proceed, how best to extract this knowledge and experience from his surgeon. “You…you could…” He cleared his throat. “You could come by the house this evening, and we could continue this discussion in private?” A rush of anxiety coursed through him. What if Jackson rejected him? His embarrassment might be the end of him. Worse, what if he decided to report Reid’s curiosity? He stood to lose so much. How daft had he been to ask this of Jackson? He turned his hat in his hands as the questions turned over in his mind.

Jackson stared at him. Then looked away. Then looked over Reid’s body.

Reid’s anxiety intensified as he realized Jackson was inspecting his form. He shifted from one foot to the other and brushed his hair back off his forehead. 

The doctor nodded. “Alright. I’ll swing by this evening.” 

Now the inspector watched the doctor walking across his bedroom. He swerved around a chair Reid had moved in after Emily’s passing, confidently making his way as if he had always belonged there. Something about the way Jackson moved, lithe and self-assured, reminded the inspector of a wild cat prowling its cage. Predatory. It stirred a desire in Reid that he had not felt since before his wife passed. What he expressed as simple curiosity when they were together in the Dead Room had been stroked in the hours since into something more. 

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jackson said. “There’s no obligations, you have nothing to prove to me.”

His tone was light, but hearing Jackson’s voice forced Reid to confront the reality of the moment and he felt what little confidence he’d harbored evaporate. The tide of apprehension within him swelled while Jackson seemed so unruffled.

“I know,” Reid murmured. He glanced away from Jackson, hoping without the pressure of Jackson’s scrutiny he might find the appropriate words to express how isolated he felt, how inexperienced he was. When no epiphany arrived he looked back to Jackson and held his gaze. He hoped, at least, to impart his sincerity.

“I want this,” he managed, softer than he would have liked. “It’s just, it’s been…and I’ve not… Never with…” Reid sounded ridiculous to his own ears. He worried his lip and smoothed out his lapel, nervous habits when words failed him. He had never sounded this meek with his late wife. Why could not he muster himself now? Was it because instead of his wintry, distant former spouse, the personification of the whole of Whitechapel’s intoxicating lusty debauchery sauntered toward him? Sauntered toward him with obvious aspirations of dragging him, albeit willingly, into an unknown, illegal world. Was that it, then? The prospect of hypocrisy? He was a man of the law, after all. Sworn to protect and serve a community known to detest that which now strummed his curious nature.

Jackson was staring at him. He wondered what the American was thinking. Would Jackson turn and leave, judging his obvious lack of composure for insincerity or, more accurately, repellent weakness? Jackson was a worldly man, having traveled over the ocean from the heart of America to settle anew in Whitechapel. He’d been a Pinkerton. A man of the military. A brilliant doctor, a worthy gunman, and a guest in the beds of numerous women. And, apparently, welcome in the beds of men as well. Certain doubt weighed down Reid’s spirit. What could a man like that see in him? He knew himself to be far inadequate compared to Jackson, and he tried to swallow his apprehension. It took a few deep breaths for him to ground himself. Then, as he watched, Jackson eased onto the bed, deliberately sliding up beside him. In his nervousness, Reid curled his fingers around the rim of his bowler. The rim crinkled.

Jackson pressed himself against Reid’s right arm and the inspector felt the warmth of the doctor’s breath brush his neck. It sent a shiver over his skin. His stomach fluttered and he hoped Jackson did not notice the flush he knew spread up his neck. He thought to say something, to acknowledge the closeness, but when he opened his mouth he was too struck by Jackson’s presence. Not a single word came to mind.

Though they had worked together for several years, Reid has always been too apprehensive to take more than furtive glances at Jackson. A glance here as Jackson walked about the Dead Room, a look there when he thought Jackson was not paying him any mind, and a careful, focused stare upon Jackson’s face when he was speaking. Sometimes he caught a glimpse of the doctor’s rosy lips. And now Jackson was in his bedroom, sitting next to him upon his bed, face inches from his own. Reid studied him. He knew he might never have the opportunity again.

He had expected the usual, and often dismissive, bravado, but he was struck by the kindness and patience in the doctor’s bright blue eyes. However, an edginess lingered behind Jackson’s calm façade. Never before had a man looked at him with such intensity. Reid faltered and dropped his gaze to the pink curves of Jackson’s lips hiding under the dusting of his mustache. He wondered how they would feel pressed against his own, if they were as soft as they looked, and if Jackson might taste of the whiskey he so often drank. Would his mustache tickle? He doubted Jackson had ever surveyed him similarly.

Jackson smiled. The tender skin around his eyes wrinkled and he looked amused. He slid his right hand down the woolen arm of Reid’s suit until the fabric ended, then ghosted his fingertips over Reid’s skin.

Reid looked down at their hands. His looked pale in comparison to Jackson’s. Though the doctor’s hand was smaller, his long, slender fingers spoke of delicate, dexterous work. Reid had personally witnessed his skill. He knew those hands to be strong and steady under pressure.

“Please, allow me,” Jackson said as he reached lower and plucked the bowler away. With a quick toss he sent the hat sailing away. It landed on the cushion of the nearby chair. When the doctor looked back, his face was graced with a rather smug grin. “Never let it be said I don’t aim well.” He settled his palm on the inspector’s arm.

Reid recognized the attempt to assuage the tension, but his anxiety and preoccupations prevented him from indulging any more than a faint smile. His mouth felt dry. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and tried to explain himself again. “I don’t know…I’ve never…” The words would not come. He pursed his lips and rolled his chin as his frustration grew.

Jackson shook his head. “Shh,” he whispered soothingly and leaned in toward Reid’s ear. “You think too much.”

The warmth of the doctor’s breath against his ear silenced Reid, guiding his mind to focus on his senses. The sensation fanned his desire.

“There’s enough thinking to be had outside, at work.” The doctor placed a single, soft, lingering kiss just below his ear.

Reid gasped, inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes and desperately soaked up the sensation. Jackson’s mustache teased his skin. His lips were warm. The kiss was not sloppy or forceful, but careful and teasing. Reid’s longing blossomed, his need to be touched and to receive affection from another, something he had long been denied, surging. Minutely, he tilted his head, silently entreating Jackson to kiss him again.

“Don’t think, just feel,” Jackson whispered. 

Reid felt Jackson’s breath against his skin and then the good doctor’s lips slid down the side of his neck, stopping just above his shirt collar. Jackson’s hot, wet tongue flit against him. The shock of another’s tongue on him made Reid’s breath stutter. His heart skipped a beat. Emily never licked. Reid had imagined it was a thing other people did, imagined others shared a level of intimacy far beyond what had ever been offered in his own marriage, but to experience it shattered the illusions his ignorance harbored. It was far more erotic than expected.

Sultry kisses moved back up the side of his neck. Then a hand, warm and solid, slipped under his tie. It flattened against the shirt covering his chest and Reid could not help the way his pectoral muscles twitched. Jackson caressed him, rubbing slow, soothing circles before dipping under the edges of his suit and passing over a nipple. It was a lover’s touch. A fondling exploration of his body that demanded nothing and excited nerves untouched for so long Reid would have thought them deadened if not for the pain inflicted by violent encounters on duty. A seed of doubt grew in his mind. He wondered how much longer the comfort could last. How far was Jackson willing to go to further his education? He pressed his chest into the touch, anxious to prolong the respite, and hummed his gratitude.

Jackson’s hand found the center of his chest and firmly pressed. “Let me,” the doctor whispered in his ear, “Let me pleasure you. Please. Let me do this for you.”

The wet heat of Jackson’s tongue pulled at his earlobe. Then the delicate flesh was enveloped in the doctor’s mouth, and gently sucked.

Reid’s mouth dropped open. Such a simple act, yet so unequivocally erotic. The anxiety he had felt subsided. He suddenly remembered what it was like to feel desired, to feel wanted. The tension he held in his muscles vanished and he relented, melting backward onto the mattress by the mere press of Jackson’s hand. The weight of Jackson’s hard, muscular frame fell on his as he laid back, his right arm pinned against the bed beneath the doctor.

Jackson’s coaxing hand moved over the expanse of his chest. A warm palm stroked up the column of his neck. Fingertips ghosted over his cheek, giving him goosebumps. And then Jackson pushed his fingers into his hair. Nails scraped his skin, sending a chill over his scalp, before the fingers curled around a fistful of hair at the base of his head. 

Reid felt a tug on his hair. Gentle, but firm. It was not painful. It was the sensual burn before pain. And it was insistent. Jackson wanted to pull his head back, to expose his throat in a move that would leave any copper feeling vulnerable. The doctor was asking him to give up control. 

Reid’s cock twitched at the thought of submitting. The feeling raised questions in his mind. How was it decided, in these sorts of affairs, who would submit to the other? Was submission necessary at all? Why did the thought of his own submission, especially to Jackson - a subordinate, provoke his desire? Then Jackson bolstered his grip and pulled harder, displaying his innate confidence and strength, and the inspector forgot his questions. Reid gave in, eager to comply if only Jackson would continue to touch him. His body fell limp beneath the doctor’s as Jackson steadily pulled his head back to present the tender flesh of his jaw and neck. Reid whimpered. He kept his eyes closed, afraid if he opened them Jackson might see how desperate he was for his affections.

The sultriness of Jackson’s mouth set upon his jawline and followed it from the joint below his ear to his chin. He licked and kissed and Reid hummed in delight.

“You like the things I do with my mouth, Reid?”

“Mmm,” Reid managed, too wrapped up in the sensations.

Jackson’s weight shifted on him and then the doctor released his hold on Reid’s hair. Reid’s heart sank at the loss. Then Jackson brushed his fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp, and clenched his fist around a clump of his locks at the back of his head. The grip was tighter than before, prohibiting him from moving his head. 

Emily had always expected him to perform according to traditional expectations. He had heard the men at the stationhouse talk, crudely, of various positions to use during intercourse, or of using their fingers and mouths, but his wife had wanted none of these affections. Once he had tried to offer her pleasure in a bath. Emily all but hit him for his failure to abide by her strict boundaries and almost formulaic sexual conventions. There had never been any room for exploration, never any exhilaration from testing the boundaries of pleasure and roles, and relations had not improved over time. If she had been standoffish before the accident, her desire for him had evaporated afterward. He had forgotten what it felt like to be desired. 

Jackson’s overt deviation, the blatant dominance he willingly expressed over a man a size larger than he, made Reid’s mouth drop open. Leave it to Jackson, a man of science, to interject intellect and cleverness into carnal charades. 

He felt Jackson hover over him and, for a moment, thought the doctor may bring their mouths together. But, Jackson shifted away. Reid was disappointed. He had often wondered how it might feel for their lips to mingle. 

His cheek tingled as Jackson skimmed his knuckles over his skin, and then there was pressure on the knot of his tie. He felt a tug, and another, and the fabric was pulled loose. The soft material was removed from under his collar and discarded. Jackson’s hand moved to his shirt. With a stab of fear, Reid realized Jackson meant to remove it.

Reid’s anxiety returned. He clenched his jaw and his body tensed. He opened his eyes, searching for Jackson’s hand, and reached with his left hand to still Jackson’s hand. Jackson stopped as soon as he grasped his wrist. They looked into each other’s eyes and Reid saw the confusion and the worry.

“What’s wrong, Reid?”

Reid worried his lip. How to explain the disfigurement that lay hidden under his clothes? It was not just a scar and bits of mangled muscle. It was a reminder of his failure to protect his family. It was part of the reason Emily never wanted him after the accident. It was why he avoided mirrors until he had dressed and was too self-conscious to be even in his own home without a shirt. How could Jackson, a hedonist who flaunted his own form, understand his trepidation? His brow furrowed with his concern.

“Tell me,” said Jackson. His tone was kind. It was encouraging, not demanding. 

Reid felt Jackson’s grip on his hair lessen. He was free now to move his head as he wished, and yet, as he looked into the steady gaze of Jackson’s alluring blue eyes, he suddenly felt captive. He broke eye contact.

“There is…” Reid blinked rapidly, another nervous habit. He considered pushing Jackson off and asking him to leave rather than face humiliation, rather than expose his shame.

“There is?” Jackson looked expectantly at him.

Reid grimaced under the weight of his shame and a phantom pain ran through the muscles under his scar. “Damage.”

“Damage,” the doctor repeated back matter-of-factly. He sighed and twirled Reid’s hair between his fingers, brushing a few longer strands behind his ear.

Reid saw the familiar contemplative look upon the doctor’s face and did not press. He wished he could read his mind. He knew there were rumors about the accident and his family that regularly circulated around the station house, but he did not know how many, if any, had made their way back to Jackson. Would he press him for an explanation? Chastise him for his reluctance?

“Reid, everybody’s a little damaged. Some scars are visible, the physical ones you see, and some are invisible. Nobody goes through life and comes out the other side damage-free. Especially not a copper worth their weight.”

The tenderness in Jackson’s voice caught Reid off-guard, but the words did not ease his anxiety. He started to think about his daughter and stopped himself. Then his thoughts drifted to Emily and, again, he stopped himself. He drew in a slow, deep breath, pursing his lips as he steeled himself against their memories and tried to focus on the here and now.

“I’ve got plenty of damage of my own, Reid. Besides, I’m a certified doctor. You think you’re so special you’ve got something I ain’t never seen?” Jackson smirked. “Good luck. You call me the best you’ve got. Think of all the experience I had to go through to get this good.”

Reid looked away, freeing his attention from the distraction of Jackson’s face, and thought over his words. He recalled Jackson had lost people in the wilds of America, people he cared about and had been unable to save. And he knew Jackson must have dealt with untold physical injuries over the years, both as a doctor for the living and for those in the Dead Room, but Reid was not a stranger or a body on a slab in the morgue. He would always vividly remember Emily’s reaction, and now he would vividly remember Jackson’s. Reid sighed. He still felt anxious, but he determined to trust Jackson. He hoped for the best, and tried to brace himself for the worst.

“Who would have expected such worldly wisdom from a brothel dogging lush?” Reid put on his best warm smile as he spoke, hoping Jackson would let the conversation progress.

Jackson happily took the bait with a look of mock scorn. “Hey now, and here I was being all nice like. I’m offended.”

“Oh, surely not the thick skinned former Pinkerton.”

“As surely as the day is long.”

“Allow me to make it up to you,” said Reid, sloughing off the spirit of jest in favor of ardor. He wanted to feel Jackson’s touch again.

“You surely can. All you have to do is let me kiss you.”

It took Reid’s breath away. “Go on, then, doctor,” he said, parting his lips ever so slightly in invitation. His gaze dropped to Jackson’s mouth as the doctor leaned in and hovered above him. The warmth of Jackson’s breath spread over his lips. It made Reid’s heartbeat quicken in anticipation. Then Jackson lowered his head.

His lips perfectly settled against Reid’s lower lip. It was the most chaste, sweet kiss Reid had ever experienced, but it was not enough. He wanted more. He slipped his left hand up to cup the back of Jackson’s head and ran his fingers into his surgeon’s hair, encouraging him not to pull away.

Jackson did not disappoint. He brushed his tongue over Reid’s lower lip before teasing it with his teeth.

Reid hummed enthusiastically as he felt Jackson’s tongue slip between his lips and inside his mouth. It flicked over the tip of his tongue before swirling around it. Reid lost himself in the sensation, moaning incoherently. “Mmnnn.” He wanted to embrace Jackson, to wrap his arms around him tight and pull the doctor flush against his body, but his right arm was still trapped beneath Jackson. He shifted to free it then, suddenly, Jackson’s hand was inside his shirt and pressed against the skin of his chest. 

Reid broke the kiss, turning his head to the side to catch his breath. His distraction had been so complete he had not realized Jackson had unbuttoned his shirt. “Sneaky one, aren’t you?”

Jackson did not reply. Instead, he placed a series of kisses beginning at Reid’s jaw and ending at his shirt collar. Then he took hold of the edges of Reid’s shirt. Gently, he peeled back the fabric. As Reid watched, Jackson licked his chest.

Reid closed his eyes and groaned. His cock jumped. He had no idea Jackson would be so sensual, that he would use his tongue so actively and to such effect. He felt Jackson quickly unbutton and peel away his waistcoat, but then the doctor’s movements slowed. One by one he unbuttoned Reid’s shirt until he had reached the top of his pants. He pulled the shirttails free and then abruptly slipped his hand under the waistband of the inspector's pants. Reid felt the doctor’s fingertips in the hair above his cock. He sucked in a breath and swallowed, feeling a blush creep up his neck and onto his cheeks. Jackson had proceeded so delicately thus far, and it shocked Reid that he was suddenly so brazen. And then Jackson removed his hand.

The doctor splayed his hand on Reid’s stomach and repeated the caressing circles he had made before, pushing away the inspector’s shirt as he went. Inch by inch Reid felt the fabric fall away. The room’s cool air struck his skin and the stark contrast from the heat of Jackson’s hand gave him chills. Slowly Jackson’s hand made his way up to Reid’s chest and he felt the scratch of the doctor’s fingernails in his chest hair. The doctor’s hand moved over his left pectoral and Reid found it impossible to enjoy the sensation. He knew what disfigurement the doctor would find there. With his eyes still closed, he held his breath, clenched his jaw, and waited for Jackson’s reaction.

There was a pause as his shirt was pushed off his chest and away from his scarred shoulder. It was only a second before Jackson was moving again, but Reid’s mind had been honed over many years to notice details. His heart sank. He found himself breathing harder as dread and sadness welled within his chest and dared not open his eyes to glimpse Jackson’s face.

And then he felt the press of warmth on his damaged flesh. He stilled in surprise. Jackson was kissing him. Kissing the gnarled reminder of pain, running his fingertips over its peaks and valleys, tenderly licking at its edges. Reid drew a shuddering breath. He grit his teeth against the tears that stung his eyes, but they slipped down his cheeks. Jackson’s willing acceptance and adoration, heightened by Reid’s yearning for the simplest of caresses, was overwhelming. Suddenly he needed to express the intimacy he felt. He reached down and guided Jackson’s face to his own.

Jackson required little encouragement. He eagerly let himself be drawn in.

Reid felt the quick nibble of his lower lip before Jackson pushed his tongue inside and passionately kissed him. Jackson’s soft mustache brushed his face. It was a singular feeling, the hair of another man against him, and it ignited something primal within Reid. He needed to feel the doctor’s presence, to touch his body and to keep him from moving away. He stretched out his fingers and clenched a fist around the fabric of Jackson’s suit.

The doctor’s hand slid down onto Reid’s chest, then belly. He moaned when he felt Jackson’s fingertips push under his waistband again. He broke the kiss and sucked in a deep breath.

“Mm, I love the noises you make, Reid,” Jackson whispered in his ear.

Reid did not recall making any noises. His eyebrows drew together. “I hadn’t realized I was making any,” he panted.

Jackson looked down the length of Reid’s body. “Oh, no?” he mused, a sly grin on his face.

Reid reconsidered. Had he made a noise during that last kiss? He felt a flush crawl up his neck. “No,” he murmured.

The doctor gave him a knowing look and, staring intently into Reid’s eyes, pushed his hand down inside the inspector’s pants and ran two fingers over the shaft of his cock.

Sweet pleasure coursed outward from between Reid's legs. He jerked his hips, hoping for more contact, but Jackson had already removed his hand. He grasped at Jackson’s suit and loudly moaned. How could such a simple touch raise such desire? His cock was hardening as if he were a teenager. He felt the rush of heat into his pelvis. The doctor’s palm smoothed over one of his nipples, soothing him with a gentle caress. Reid hummed.

“How ‘bout that time? Did you notice that time?”

“Yes,” said Reid, breathless. He wondered if Jackson could hear his lust in his voice. 

“Well, then,” said Jackson.

Reid felt the doctor move away and slide off the bed. Disappointed and confused, Reid propped himself up on his elbows and watched him. Was he leaving? But the doctor did not make his way to the door. He walked over and pulled the seat cushion from the chair, returned to stand by Reid’s legs, and dropped the cushion at his feet. Reid studied him, curious.

Jackson knelt on the pillow and gave him a sly smile. He ran his hands up Reid’s shins to his knees. “Reid, I’m betting no one has ever done to you the thing I’m about to.”

The statement piqued the inspector’s interest. Reid wondered what the doctor was up to, sitting there in such an odd position and smiling like he had a secret. “What’s that, what are you doing?”

“You can either lie back and enjoy the ride or watch me do it, dealer's choice. But,” and Jackson playfully shook a finger at him, “you're not allowed to move anything below your waist. If it gets to be too much, and you need to move, then say…” 

Reid watched Jackson glance around the room, but could not fathom what he was after.

“Bowler. Okay, you got that? Say bowler if you need to move.”

“Bowler,” he repeated with a nod, but the inspector’s confusion had not been relieved. He was not to move, unless he must, in which case he should request permission by uttering the name of the type of hat he wore. This was an odd game. And one he was not sure he was going to like. “What’s happening that I shan’t be allowed to move?” he pressed, hoping for some reassurance. 

Jackson’s smile grew and Reid was reminded of the Cheshire Cat. “Oh, I promise you’ll enjoy it. Just remember, you’re not allowed to move anything below your waist, got it?”

Ill at ease, Reid studied Jackson for hints of his intentions, but none were readily available. He nodded his agreement and made a mental note not to move without following Jackson’s instructions.

As he looked on, Jackson removed Reid’s shoes. Then he slid his hands up the insides of Reid’s ankles, over his calves, to the inside of his knees. He looked up at Reid and, holding his gaze, pushed his legs open. Jackson scooted forward on the cushion, massaging Reid’s thighs as he moved, until he was flush against the bed with his chest before Reid’s crotch.

The way Jackson moved was so suggestive, so intimate, he stopped thinking about anything else. His apprehension evaporated. Reid let his thighs rest against Jackson’s torso and enjoyed the sensation as the doctor squeezed his muscles. It was a reminder of the strength in his hands. Then Jackson moved his hands onward. 

Reid could not take his eyes off Jackson’s tanned hands. They stopped at the valley between his legs and his hips, the doctor’s thumbs dipping into the crease along his inner thighs. Reid took a deep breath as Jackson began to massage the area. The movement brushed his pants against his hardened cock, stroking it ever so lightly every time Jackson moved his hands.

“Oh,” Reid moaned. He held his breath and bit at his lower lip. The tension built in his body, but it was so little stimulation. A tease. He needed more. He tilted his hips, pushing his cock up into the slow rhythm Jackson created.

Immediately Jackson removed his hands. “Hey, now,” the doctor scolded. “You’re not adhering to the rule.”

Embarrassed at his lack of self-control, Reid relaxed his hips and let them sink back to the mattress. He hoped he had not ruined the moment. “Sorry. Sorry. I lost myself, forgive me.” Reid blinked down at the captain, waiting to see what he would do.

“You’re forgiven. But, really, it’s a simple rule. Just relax.”

Reid nodded, but he wanted to laugh. If only the world were that easy, to be able to relax at will whenever one pleased. It was a mark, a reminder, of the differences in their personalities. Jackson was more outgoing, more hedonistic. Reid knew himself to be more of an introvert, usually daring to delve into the pleasures of life only after more pressing goals had been achieved. But it was Jackson’s patience and understanding that had led them here, not Reid’s sense of duty. Reid was thankful for Jackson.

Jackson lifted one hand, letting it hover over the length of Reid’s cock. “Don’t move now,” he chastised. “Don’t break the rules.”

Reid nodded again, but Jackson’s hand had captivated his attention. He longed to know, to watch, to feel what the doctor would be doing with that hand. When Jackson lowered his hand, wrapping his agile fingers around his cock as much as the fabric would allow, Reid moaned. His cock was fully hard now and begging to be stimulated. Jackson squeezed him, then began to stroke his shaft. Reid’s heart beat hastened. He needed to move, but he was sure if he moved his hips Jackson would stop. It was a form of torture, he was sure of it. He fisted a wad of the comforter.

“Does this feel good, Reid?”

“Yes,” Reid blurted through breaths.

“Does it?”

“Yes!” Reid wished Jackson would allow him to concentrate solely on the sensation he was feeling instead of distracting him with questions. He was sure if he could only focus he could find his release, even it meant doing so while still in his pants.

“Because I’ll stop if it doesn’t.”

“No, please, continue.” He hoped Jackson could not hear the need in his voice.

“When was the last time anyone stroked your cock, Reid?”

The blatant vulgarity of Jackson’s words caught Reid off guard. They heard all manner of crude language while on duty, but he had never, ever, heard such phrasing during a moment of intimacy. If there had been any talking at all, it had been him checking on his partner or voicing endearments. Certainly not about whether he should be stroked. His cock jerked in Jackson’s hand. Far from softening, he felt harder than ever. He blushed. When he opened his mouth to reply, Jackson brushed his palm over his balls, then back up to grip his shaft again.

“A…long…time,” he managed.

“Well, then.” Jackson let go.

Reid’s libido screamed. He fell back against the mattress in frustration and groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut, balled his fists up in the comforter, and mourned the loss of Jackson’s touch. When would Jackson cease his distractions?

He felt Jackson unbutton the fly of his pants and the flaps were drawn back. Then the doctor pushed his legs closed before tugging at his undergarment and pants.

“Lift your hips, Reid.”

Reid planted his feet on the floor and pushed his hips upward, lifting his buttocks from the mattress. Jackson wasted no time in pulling the undergarment and pants off his butt and genitals. Cool air struck his hot, sensitive skin. The inspector gasped.

“Drop your hips, Reid.”

Reid relaxed his body, sinking back down on the comforter. He lifted each foot in turn as Jackson slipped the clothes from him, smiling when he placed a soft kiss on the inside of each knee. Then his legs were being pressed open again, farther this time, enough that the lewdness of his exposure to Jackson struck Reid. Again he felt embarrassed, but remembered his promise not to move.

Jackson slid his hands along the inside of his thighs. Then Jackson braced his legs open.

Reid felt the silky warmth of Jackson’s tongue slide over his balls and up the underside of his shaft. The novelty of the sensuous act made him gasp. “Oh…” he all but whimpered.

“Never had your cock sucked, have you, Reid?”

It was all Reid could do to shake his head. Then a burst of cold air struck the wet streak. He jerked, causing his cock to bounce against his abdomen, and hissed at the shock of it. It took a moment for him to recuperate. As he sagged back down onto the mattress, he wondered if his was the intended reaction. The sensation had not been altogether pleasant.

“What happened to not moving, Reid?”

Reid caught on, then. Jackson had intended to startle him, to make him jump. Teased, yet again. “You’re playing with me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

The inspector opened his mouth to retort when Jackson’s tongue flicked against his frenulum.

Jackson kissed the head of his cock, letting his soft lips linger as he spoke, “Do you want me to stop?” His hot breath fluttered across the head.

Reid moaned. “Dear God,” he forced out, “no.”

Jackson sucked the head of his cock inside. Reid gasped. The doctor swirled his tongue around the tip of his cock, swishing it repeatedly over the ridge. It was unlike anything Reid had ever felt. It was focused stimulation, hot and wet and it moved. “Oh, nnnnnnngmmm…” he groaned and shuddered as the pressure built in his groin. He bit his lip. Jackson made eye contact with him, then swirled his tongue over the head of his cock. It was one of the most provocative things Reid had ever witnessed. His fingers dug into the comforter, bunching the fabric harder into his fists.

The doctor began to bob his head then, taking in more of Reid’s shaft before pulling off and repeating the movement. Each time he brought his head down he did wicked things with his tongue. Reid was unable to focus on his technique. He was too distracted by the pleasure of it. His breath quickened and his body tensed as he stared at Jackson’s mouth stretching around his cock. He felt his thighs begin to tremble with the effort to keep himself stationary. Just when his cock pulsated, Jackson pulled off.

“Ohhh,” Reid groaned loudly. Again he had been teased, again he fell back to the mattress, his frustration twisting his features. His cock, harder than ever, throbbed. The pressure in his balls nearly made them ache. His buttocks tensed as he pushed his pelvis into the air in a desperate search for more stimulus, but there was none. His cock, wet from Jackson’s mouth, thrust lewdly into the cool air unhindered.

Then he felt Jackson’s soothing touch. The doctor was caressing his thighs, silent as Reid’s body sought climax. After several thrusts Jackson’s hands slid up and over his hips. Jackson forcibly pushed Reid back onto the mattress.

Reid immediately relented, allowing the good doctor to hold him down. He tried to slow his breathing and still his body.

“Do you want to come, Reid?”

Reid’s cock twitched. Jackson was still playing with him. Nevertheless, the game had his attention, body and mind, and he was willing to play along. That someone would take the time to bring him to these new heights of pleasure awed him. “Yes,” he said, breathless as he stared at the ceiling, “Please.”

“Please, what?”

He felt the doctor cup his balls and, when he looked down, the doctor stared into his eyes as he massaged them. Reid whimpered. “Please, Doctor…” Jackson’s hand smoothed over his perineum as he fondled him. Then his other hand curled around Reid’s shaft. Slowly, delicately, Jackson stroked him. His frustration subsided, giving way to simple, calm pleasure. “Oh, dear God…”

“Please what, Reid?”

“Please don’t stop. Please.”

“Do you want me to suck your cock?”

“God, yes. Please.”

“Say it, Reid.”

As the inspector watched Jackson twisted his loose fist around the head of Reid’s cock. It jerked and Reid held himself from thrusting. The doctor resumed his dainty strokes. “Please…” He moaned. “Oh, please, Homer…” He heard the begging in his own voice. “Suck my…” He steeled himself against the vulgarity his words. “Cock…please.” He hardly believed he had given in to Jackson’s provocative filth.

Jackson smiled. He looked amused. He lowered his mouth and drew in the head of Reid’s cock. 

After wetly wobbling about in the room’s cooler air, the heat of Jackson’s mouth on his cock was intense. He watched the doctor sink down as much as he could, then curl his hand around the shaft below. Reid moaned. Loudly. The boldness of his utterance shocked him. He was sure he had never made such noises before, but it was forgotten in the next moment when Jackson began to bob his head and sucked hard enough as to concave his cheeks. Reid felt the doctor’s tongue moving against the head and shaft and watched his hand pump up and down, up and down, up and down, in rhythm with his mouth. 

The inspector meant to suck in a breath, but it caught in his throat, and instead he emitted a strangled, choking noise. His cock pulsed and he felt his testicles begin to retract into his body. To his horror, Jackson reached up and wrapped his fingers around his balls, gently pulling them back away from his body. Any impending orgasm would be delayed. Reid grunted as they were drawn back, then groaned at the forced delay. “Oh, please…please don’t stop, Homer, please,” he pleaded between pants.

To his joy, Jackson released his testicles and sped up his movements.

Reid’s balls immediately retracted and a crescendo of pleasure strummed through his whole body. His breath stuttered, then he gasped. He could not keep his body from quivering under the strain of Jackson’s instructions. It was too much! He needed to move! “Bowler, Jackson! Please, bowler!” he ground out through a clenched jaw as he fought his body for control. It wanted to writhe.

Jackson pulled his mouth free long enough to say, “Move, Reid, you can move!”

Reid’s hips snapped upward, pumping up and down in earnest. The muscles of his torso and thighs struggling to obey the demands of his wild abandon, but his passion was so great he was unable to find a stable pattern. His cock jerked in and out of Jackson’s grip in a staccato rhythm. Craving more of a connection, he reached down and shoved his fingers into Jackson’s hair. Then his cock pulsed twice. A litany of loud groans escaped him. His mouth dropped open and his eyes grew wide as a rush of euphoria enveloped him. His breath froze in his chest. With one last undulating thrust into the heat of Jackson’s mouth he felt his cock pulsate, pumping out line after line of his seed. Reid stilled, his cock throbbing, but Jackson did not.

Jackson was still sucking on him. Still fisting his shaft. The sensation made Reid drop his hips an inch or so, only to push back up in several shallow thrusts. Another stream of his seed was drawn from him and still the euphoria had not faded. Reid whimpered. Overcome by the pleasure, he drifted back to the mattress. His arm dropped to the comforter. Jackson suckled on the head of his cock and squeezed his shaft. Reid whimpered again. He squirmed as his cock pulsated again, barely ejaculating. Jackson still had not withdrawn his hand and mouth, but Reid’s cock was starting to become too sensitive. He groaned as it softened and, finally, Jackson released him. Reid felt his cock droop against his thigh.

And he lay there, eyes closed and chest heaving as he drew in ragged breaths. Residual euphoria hummed throughout him. His entire body was exhausted and limp. He did not care that his jacket, shirt, and waistcoat were a sweaty, crinkled mess beneath him or that his manhood lay wet and exposed between his lewdly splayed thighs. He did not contemplate Jackson viewing him or where the doctor might be going when he, apathetically, perceived Jackson moving away. His mind was thoroughly dulled. Never before had Reid experienced this level of incapacitation from an erotic experience.

Gradually his heartbeat slowed. His breath evened until there was only the leisurely rise and fall of his chest. He heard Jackson’s approach, but did not open his eyes, and was startled by the cold, damp cloth on his genitals. Jackson was cleaning him. It was an act entirely without provocation. His heart swelled. As gentle as the doctor handled his sensitive bits, however, it was still uncomfortable. He hissed, whimpered, and gasped as the cloth moved over his testicles and cock until finally Jackson must have decided he was clean enough and moved away.

Still Reid did not move. His limbs felt weighted. The room was still around him, except for the occasional rustling of Jackson moving about, and even though his legs dangled off the side of the bed, he felt the tug of sleep. Thoughts of drifting to sleep, cozy next to a warm body, sent him into reverie. It had been so long since he had felt the comfort of another in his bed. He wondered if Jackson would stay, or if he was preparing to leave. Oh, would not it be nice if he stayed? It was only when the bed dipped, and he felt Jackson nearing, did his reverie break. He hummed contentedly.

There was a tug on his shirt cuff. Jackson was unbuttoning it.

“Time for bed, Inspector. Help me out here.”

Reid sighed and dragged his weary body up to sit. The doctor moved around him, carefully removing his jacket, shirt, and waistcoat. Jackson pressed soft kisses to the curve of his back and to his scarred shoulder as the fabric slipped free. It was such a tender display. So comforting. So affectionate. So disarming. Reid dipped his head, feeling his cheeks warm, and submitted to the attention.

Jackson got up to turn off the lamps. When he returned to the bed, they slipped under the covers.

Reid lay on his side and gazed at Jackson’s form on the other side of the bed. He seemed so far away. Reid wanted to feel the heat of Jackson’s body next to his. He reached over, slid his hand over Jackson’s side, and down across his abdomen. Gently, but firmly, he pulled Jackson across the mattress until his back was nestled against Reid’s chest.

Jackson chuckled. “Have a good time, Reid?”

“Better than my wildest dreams,” he murmured, half taken by sleep already.

“Really. I should tell you about my wildest dreams sometime.” He sounded cavalier at the prospect.

Reid could not imagine anything could more intense that what he had just experienced. Surely, anything more verged on the edge of madness. “Might be the end of me.” 

“But what a way to go.”

Ever the debauchee, Jackson was. Reid smiled in amusement. He closed his eyes, lowered his head, and nestled his face into the back of Jackson's neck. Jackson’s hair tickled his nose. Delighting in the comfort of his presence, he ran his hand along Jackson’s torso, exploring and caressing him. Then his forearm bumped into Jackson's erection. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach. How could he have been so self-centered? How could he let his partner go unsatisfied?

“Oh,” Reid flustered, “I've been selfish.” He started to rise.

“No, you haven't, not at all. Don't you go find a reason to feel bad about what we just had.”

Reid faltered and sunk back into the covers. He wondered if Jackson was truly accepting of his gaffe or if he was only placating him. “But, I've left you…unattended.”

“I’m too tired. Besides, I get ‘attended’ all the time, Reid. Have you forgotten where I spend most of my nights?” He sounded sleepy.

Reid’s heart warmed. He could have gone to the brothel, to his waiting reserved bed, but he did not. He chose to stay here, in Reid’s bed. With Reid. “But…not tonight,” said Reid, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“No, not tonight.”

Reid pressed a gentle kiss on Jackson’s neck just below his hairline. He squeezed the good doctor against him and curled his body around him. The entire bed was snug with the radiating warmth of their bodies. Reid hummed and feathered his fingertips on Jackson’s stomach. Cozy just as in his reverie, the call of sleep returned.

Jackson sighed.

“Goodnight, Homer,” Reid mumbled against Jackson’s skin.

“Goodnight, Edmund.”


End file.
